


Don't You Know How Sweet And Wonderful Life Can Be?

by thefooliam



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-25
Updated: 2011-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefooliam/pseuds/thefooliam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She guesses that’s why people call them clichés</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Know How Sweet And Wonderful Life Can Be?

This isn’t a date. They may have done all the things people do on a date, but this isn’t one. Santana tells herself that over and over again, just to make sure she doesn’t choke and ruin it.

It’s just an evening with her best friend and, sure, she may or may not be completely crazy in love with that best friend, but that doesn’t mean it’s a date. It just means that things are still weird and awkward and they’re trying to get things back on track. It doesn’t mean that it’s a date.

But as she looks over to where Brittany sits in the passenger seat, worrying her hands together, Santana kind of wants it to be a date. The thought of them going to Breadstix and then taking a walk to the park to go on the swings feels like too much of a cliché to be anything else. And, usually, she would hate to subscribe to all those dating clichés because they’re so damn lame, but, with Brittany, they just feel like the things she should be doing anyway.

She guesses that’s why people call them clichés.

They’re in her car now. All those months ago, they probably would have missed the park and gone straight for one of their bedrooms but here they are.

“Santana?”

Santana looks up nervously and wonders when looking at Brittany will stop taking her breath away. “Yeah, Britt?”

Brittany plays with her knuckles in her lap and furrows her brow. “Is this a date?”

Santana worries her lip between her teeth and averts her gaze into her own lap. “I don’t know, Britt,” she whispers nervously. “Do – do you want it to be?”

She gathers enough courage to look at the girl beside her and finds blue eyes staring back. Brittany smiles nervously and Santana’s heart flutters.

“Yeah,” Brittany nods. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Santana releases a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding and looks away again. She doesn’t want Brittany to see her smile, or the way her cheeks go pink and hot. She wants Brittany to think that she’s badass and cool, and like she already knew this was going to be a date before they even left. That feels like an impossible thing to want, though, so she keeps her eyes in her lap.

She doesn’t even look when Brittany unbuckles her seat belt and leans over the gear shift to press a kiss to her cheek, or when Brittany’s nose nudges against her jaw and down her neck until she’s kissing and sucking steadily at her pulse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” Brittany whispers shakily and then she’s moving away.

It’s then that Santana looks up. She watches in the rear view mirror as Brittany climbs over into the back and settles herself into the back seat. She sets her hands back into her lap again and Brittany looks back at her through the mirror, almost daring her to follow.

It takes Santana thirty seconds to think about whether she wants to follow, but then she’s acting fast and desperately climbing after Brittany.

She feels like an idiot when she practically falls in Brittany’s lap. Strong hands steady her (just like they’ve been doing for years) and then Brittany maneuvers her to straddle her lap.

“Hi,” Santana says, not sure how to sit. Brittany wraps an arm around her waist and settles the other on her thigh, gently encouraging her to rest on her lap.

She strokes a curtain of Santana’s hair from her eyes and smiles warmly. “Hey,” she whispers in response before they’re kissing, slowly and surely, promises of more oozing through each one until Santana can feel both their pulses hammering warningly.

“Do you… want to put down the seats?” Santana whispers when they pull away for a minute. Brittany shakes her head and strokes her hands up underneath Santana’s jacket, pushing it down her arms until it falls into the foot well.

One of Brittany’s hands braces the back of her neck and the other cups her cheek. She kisses her slowly, starting with her lips, then her chin and her nose. Her cheeks come next and they’re so reverent that Santana has to curl her fists into the fabric of Brittany’s t-shirt to stop herself from shattering. They’re innocent too. She’s pretty sure that this isn’t even sexual for Brittany, just something that she’s always been too afraid to do. That makes it better, somehow. This isn’t just something in a list of things Brittany wants to do to work her up. She’s just kissing her for the sake of kissing her –  _No_ – She’s her kissing because she needs it more than anything else.

“You’re beautiful,” Brittany breathes as the kisses linger down her throat, into the hollow between her collarbones.

Maybe the kisses aren’t so innocent then. Brittany’s mouth opens to her skin and the hand cupping the back of her neck moves for a moment to push the shoulder of her dress down a little to reach more skin before it moves back, tilting her head to the side until she can suck on the patch of skin where her neck meets her shoulder. Santana moans and that’s strange in itself, to be moaning already, just from kissing. It catches both of them off guard and they rest their foreheads together as they struggle to catch their breath.

“Do you think anyone can see?” Brittany asks softly. “We can go home if you want. We don’t…”

Santana cuts her off with a kiss and shakes her head. Her cheeks are pink now and she’s sure it’s not with nerves or embarrassment. “I don’t think I can wait that long,” she admits and it’s Brittany’s turn to blush.

Brittany gulps and her hands moves to settle against Santana’s thighs. Santana looks down and watches through heavy-lidded eyes as Brittany worms her fingers beneath the tight fabric and pushes a little with intent. Santana shifts and allows her to push the fabric up and over her backside, biting her lip at the feel of Brittany’s hands stroking over the curves of her body until she has to tug the dress over her head.

Her hair falls back into her eyes again and Brittany brushes it out of the way as Santana unzips and kicks off her boots. She follows suit and Santana giggles a little as Brittany forces her to kneel up again until they’re working together to push her jeans down her legs to accompany Santana’s dress in the foot well. Santana kisses Brittany as soon as she feels warm skin pressed against her own, and it’s so easy to bunch her hands into the fabric of Brittany’s shirt that neither of them notice that the shirt has come away until they have to separate to lift it over Brittany’s head.

Everything goes faster, quicker and with more purpose. Santana clutches at Brittany’s cheeks while Brittany forces Santana’s socks down her legs, fingers stroking calves and thighs until arms are wrapping around Santana’s waist and bringing her as close as possible. Santana moans again, but Brittany responds with her own in agreement. Something’s different, something’s changed and she doesn’t want to think it’s because she doesn’t feel as scared anymore, but that’s definitely it. It’s not like its bad either, just… nerve-wracking because it feels like their first time all over again.

“I love you,” she whispers against Brittany’s lips, thumbs swiping over the bottom one that’s grown swollen and pinker with kissing.

Brittany whimpers in agreement and kisses down her chest, just as fingers unsnap and tug her bra down her arms. Lips linger over her chest, and then a hand is cupping Santana’s breast, bringing it to Brittany’s mouth until her lips are wrapped around a nipple and stroking it with her tongue. Santana whines, unable to control herself.

For the first time since all of this started, she doesn’t care; all that matters is that Brittany’s body is pressed against her own, that Brittany’s lips are covering her own and that Brittany keeps holding her in that tight, possessive way that says  _don’t you ever let me go_. It’s the same hold that has her clutching back just as strongly begging _you neither_  until it feels like they’re the only thing holding each other up.

“What do you want?” Brittany whispers against her shoulder, her voice desperate and shaky.

Santana nudges her nose against Brittany’s cheek until she’s turning her head to kiss her again. “You,” she says. “Just you…”

She knows it’s not what Brittany meant, but she seems to understand it anyway. Her arms worm beneath Santana’s ass and shift her again until she’s up on her knees. Santana clings to Brittany as nimble fingers hook into her underwear and push them down her legs. Brittany kisses her neck lazily as they untangle the fabric at Santana’s feet and then proceeds to slip her own underwear down her thighs.

They’re naked and it should feel freezing. It is outside because the windows are foggy from the hot air that’s condensing against them, but it’s not in here. It’s probably too hot and Santana feels a little light-headed, but she doesn’t care. Not when Brittany’s still keeping her kneeling and forcing a hand between their bodies.

She doesn’t understand what’s happening until she feels a hand stroking over her before her entire body’s being lowered onto two long, familiar fingers. She jerks and moans at the instant sensation and kisses aimlessly behind Brittany’s ear, tiny whimpers of thanks licking at her skin.

“Don’t stop,” she mumbles and Brittany’s shakes her head, even as she’s nudging to encourage Santana to move with her. Santana rides lazily, rocking backwards and forwards as Brittany strokes firmly inside of her. “God, don’t stop…” she groans as Brittany kisses her neck, thumb moving around to reach for her clit.

Brittany’s fingers curl and Santana jerks as her back arches and her head falls back. She lets one hand go of Brittany and braces herself on the head rest of the seat beside her. Her hips move steadier, her body arching entirely into Brittany until Brittany’s moaning just as easily underneath her. She looks between them as Brittany guides Santana’s hips with a hand on the curve of her ass, fingers digging into the flesh. Brittany’s head dips to kiss at her sternum, teeth biting at whatever skin she can reach, encouraged by Santana’s hand curled at the back of her neck, tangled into wild blond hair.

“I’m gonna…” Santana breathes, body struggling to keep its rhythm the more the pressure builds inside of her. At her admittance, Brittany strives to move faster, struggling to keep in time just as much as Santana as her own need for release builds inside of her. “More, baby,” she gasps. “Fuck, baby… I need…”

Brittany’s tongue dips into her mouth, stroking against her own. Santana moans and her hips rise as Brittany forgets herself and quickens her movements. She’s wet, so wet and all she needs it a little bit more.

“More, baby,” she whispers into Brittany’s mouth. “Please, baby, just a little more…”

Brittany pushes another finger inside of her and she moans brokenly with relief. It’s exactly what she needed and her hips take control completely as she rides them in broad strokes, glad for Brittany’s thumb flicking lazily over her clit.

But Brittany seems reluctantly to let her ride this out quickly. She buries her head in Santana’s chest and shakes her head, her arm wrapping around Santana’s hips and holding her close. She moves them then, steadily up and down like a wave until Santana’s slowly taking every inch of the fingers inside of her and feeling every stroke they have to offer her. Brittany licks up her throat and kisses against the rumbles of the moans that leave her, waiting for the moment when Santana breaks and she has to hold her together. It’s there a second later, arriving on her last downward push onto Brittany’s fingers and she stiffens, even as Brittany’s still moving their bodies up and down, pulling every bit of pleasure from within her as she whimpers and twitches in her arms.

Breathless and spent, Santana barely has enough energy to look at her. Hand trapped between them, Brittany leaves her hand where it is and reaches up to push that same curtain of hair that keeps falling into Santana’s beautiful dark brown eyes. Santana smiles and gasps for breath as Brittany kisses her brow, letting her lips linger there as Santana tries to fight blacking out.

“I love you,” Brittany hums and Santana shifts until Brittany can withdraw her hand from between them. She falls to the seat beside her and lays down across the seats, pulling Brittany over her.

Santana kisses her lazily for a moment before pulling away. She gets caught wondering if Brittany gets more beautiful every day, if every day that Brittany wakes up her eyes will be a little bit more blue and her smile will be just that little bit wider. All she knows is that she wants to be there to stick around and find out; she wants to be part of the reason why those things to happen.

“I love you too,” she whimpers because it’s never been more true. One arm wraps around Brittany’s shoulders and the other strokes down from her neck, between her breasts and over her stomach until it finds the only other place, other than in Brittany’s own, that her hand truly fits. She strokes purposefully, her eyes open and watching exhaustedly as Brittany writhes and presses against her. It’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen and she knows that she never wants it to be taken away; it wasn’t hard to realize that when it almost was. But Brittany’s here now, wrapped in her arms and she won’t take that for granted anymore. She gives Brittany her everything and presses her own lips all over Brittany’s face for no other reason than she wants to taste her skin and imprint it into memory. Her fingers are good, but her mouth is better. It remembers Brittany in better ways that she’s sure anything else can. No book, no photograph, no words can better remember how beautiful Brittany is than her lips can.

Brittany’s eyes open desperately and Santana can feel how close she is. She smiles gently and nudges their noses together in encouragement before she kisses her softly, whispering guiding words into her mouth. She begs her to come and Brittany does as she’s told, shocking her a little even though it shouldn’t. Her hips cant against Santana and then she stops as her body comes to rest just as lazily as Santana’s own. She curls around her, fits them back together like the puzzle that they are and they both just lay there listening to the sound of each other’s heartbeat.

“I thought that people weren’t supposed to have sex on their first date,” Santana whispers into Brittany’s hair after a while. They should probably get dressed and go home soon but she doesn’t want to.

Brittany giggles and kisses up her chest until her face is buried in Santana’s neck. “That wasn’t our first date,” she says.

“What?” Santana asks. “Then why did you ask if it was?”

Brittany shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I just wanted it to be real for once.”

Santana sighs and nods in agreement. “I’m sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” she sighs, body relaxing more and more. “We’ve done this a million times only in different ways. I didn’t know what it was before… now I do and that’s all I wanted.”

Santana presses her lips to Brittany’s forehead and presses little peck against her brow. “I love you,” she breathes. “You’re the reason everything makes sense.”

Brittany smiles against her neck and Santana doesn’t need her to say anything else; she doesn’t need anything other than to fall asleep on the back seat of her car and let the world to spin on around them.


End file.
